‘They rang me later and said it was too late to cancel-they were keeping my deposit,’ Michael muttered. He had the grace to look a bit shamefaced, but only for a moment. He regrouped fast. With an ego the size of Michael’s it was easy. ‘And by then you’d agreed to sleep here. For heaven’s sake, Rachel, you know how small the car is. Do you want me to hurt my back?’

‘Yes!’

‘Look, it’s immaterial anyway,’ he told her, moving right on. ‘It’s just as well I had a decent night’s sleep as it happens. Hubert Witherspoon’s had a heart attack.’

Hubert Witherspoon? The name had its desired effect. Rachel’s fury was deflected-for the moment.

Hubert Witherspoon was probably the richest man in Australia. He owned half the iron ore deposits in the country. What the man wanted, the man got.

‘He wants me,’ Michael told her.

‘What-?’

‘The Witherspoon family aren’t risking road blocks due to bushfire. They’ve sent a helicopter to take me back to Sydney.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘It should be landing right now and they want me to leave immediately. Can you show Penelope for her final judging and bring her home afterwards?’

Hubert Witherspoon…

Hubert’s death would be a national catastrophe-at least for the financial markets. It should have made Rachel’s eyes widen in awe.

It should have made her do whatever Michael wanted. But-Michael had been swimming. He’d slept in a motel. In a bed.

While she’d been sitting with Penelope, feeling just dreadful about leaving Sydney. For such a reason…

‘You want me to show Penelope?’ she managed, and he smiled, the smooth, specialist-to-junior-doctor smile that had persuaded her to come on this weekend in the first place. Why did it make her think suddenly of snake oil?

‘You’ve been watching the other dogs being shown,’ he told her. ‘You saw how I handled Penelope this morning.’ He checked Rachel from head to toe with a judge’s critical eye. ‘Penelope will be fine. You might want to get yourself cleaned up a bit first, though.’